Old age angst

On Sunday, Rosemary visited her elderly Auntie Mary in hospital. Auntie was cleaning her teeth. She spat into the tooth mug because there was no alternative.

"Naughty Mary," said the nurse strictly, tapping her on the hand.

"I'm so sorry," said Auntie, "but I wanted to say thank you to my niece for so kindly visiting." But the nurse had gone, off to the other side of the ward, too busy for a long polite sentence, and never heard the explanation. Rosemary found this very depressing. There was her Aunt, former head of the Royal College of ****, being ticked off like a witless baby.

"I'm haunted by the helplessness of old age," said Rosemary, looking desolate. No wonder. Last night, at home alone, her children all away, Rosemary bleached the sink in an efficient way and went up to bed. She awoke this morning to find the kitchen awash, floating slippers and a paddling cat. She had left a tap on all night.

"I can't live alone!" cried Rosemary, thinking of her future and her Auntie. And then there was another red alert. My mother had left a desperate gabbled message on her answerphone. "Where are you?" wailed my mother's voice. "I don't know where Michele is! The AA man can't find her." Home alone, my mother naturally assumed I was dead, crashed en route to my broken-down car.

Hot on the heels of my mother's message came another from Arthur, another elderly chum of Rosemary's. His wife had disappeared. Where could she be? She'd been gone all day and he was too poorly to cook his own dinner. So was my mother. Rosemary was surrounded by helpless elderly persons asking for assistance. Meanwhile, her cork tiles had all come loose and were curling up at the edges and Rosemary had tripped over several and broken bits off. Her kitchen looked like a slum and she had been hoping to sell her house. Who would buy it now? Left alone for one night, Rosemary had wrecked her kitchen. And she was only 60.

I find Rosemary standing on the pavement looking rather pale. "Your mother's been phoning, Arthur's been phoning, everybody's worried about everybody." And now I am worried about Rosemary. So we have a worriers' support network. In an odd way, this has rather cheered us up.